I stand at the top of the human-made-stone-tree-den with my paws where they were 5 short days ago. While the scents of wet forest are singing^, colours are muted day and night, I feel like I haven’t seen the sky since I was ejected from the compound. Do you think that on World you would be worthy of smelling sunshine? Do you think this Damp-World is so different? Do you think this Sun could stand to smell you? I let myself experience the brisk wind, though it is almost gentle by comparison to what we experience whenever we leave the shelter of the trees. It brings a myriad of scents and information. It smells alien but exhilarating. Only you would find something so not of-Pack exhilarating. Only a runt-making made-runt would be excited by the smell of Pack absence. I smell the land below, predators and prey in the never-ending battle of life, the big-saltwater, the strange human smells. A throaty, rich smell reaches me. There is a herd. A large herd. They are not cautious. They’re grazing at ease. I turn my nose to the scent and peer into undifferentiated grey. I can make out nothing with my ears or eyes that supplement my nose’s assessment.

I bolt down the platforms, taking two bounds per side of this strange edifice. I drop a scent-mask into place. The ever-pups will be at the bottom of the structure if the last few days have been anything to judge by. They have barely strayed when parked. Late First Eyes Runt^ has spent more time with me than with the others. She is finding it hard to understand why her relationship with Spotless might have changed. After her attack, back Inside, he slept alongside her that night and was not afraid of her by next zenith. When she helped me and pinned him, although he sought warmth from fellow dogs at night, he did not trust her the following day. Later that day, while that trust was still panting and licking its wounds, she helped me get a splint onto his leg with much snarling and savagery. Since then, he keeps other dogs between them. She was bewildered the first day but the last two she has stayed with me more and more. The poor oblivious creature. She doesn’t know why doing what she was told, with such encouragement from me straight into her stomach, has made her den-mate hate her.

Sure enough, they are all there, resting but alert. Far from the break I was hoping to give them from trauma, their stay here has been full of stress and pain. I tell Pointy and Bouncy we are going hunting. Late First Eyes Runt falls in. All-Spot and Spotless do not. I decide to leave All-Spot; I can only hope he will be some use if a Damp-Hyena comes by and fancies eating Spotless. I indicate the scent we are following and take up First Eyes as the pack starts to track the herd animals. We track to the edge of the trees and the light, misty rain. They are out here, grazing on the swathes between here and the human settlement I can smell beyond (different to any other I have smelled…exhilarating). I hunch down, unsure of what defences these animals might have and how they might perceive us. The mist buys us a degree of stealth by ear, eye and nose but also limits my already uncertain control over the ever-pups.

I can smell them fanned out, as we have practised. I have no idea if these provisioning techniques would serve with a large mammal. I have no option but to try. We creep forwards until I can smell the ungulates^ clearly. There is no scent of concern; they smell almost brazenly relaxed. I can now see them looming out of the mist. They are taller than me. There is a smaller individual to one side which seems the best choice. I scent intent and indicate the target. With no way to confirm they have picked up on it, I lead the charge of the prey. Bouncy leaps forward barking, she sends the whole herd into chaos. Pointy and Late First Eyes Runt follow my chosen individual into the melee. I plunge after them. The chaos is disorienting to my uncontrollable ears. I snap at individuals that come close and try to distinguish where to concentrate my efforts. I smell a large musky predator in the mix. Damp-Hyena?! There is snarling and the largest cat I could imagine, 12 times the size of a sap-cat, has an individual in their jaws. The others are gone. Pointy, Bouncy and Late First Eyes Runt are stock still, bellies down, looking at the cat as she growls low in her throat and shakes any remaining life from her prey.

I hoo, the cat already knows we are here, best to get everyone to safety as soon as possible. I want to make sure Spotless is safe. They run to me, low and fast. We form up and run to the treeline without pausing.

We find Spotless and All-Spot looking unperturbed. Spotless is walking round with his twice broken paw loosely wrapped to a slightly too long splint. His leg swinging wildly to get it round and the weight being taken by the stick is devastatingly sad. You could have let him Walk. It would have been better to do him that mercy rather than have to survive your attempt at QD. It has gone about as well as your attempt to be First Eyes or even just a Soil-dog. He wags to see us return. He wags at Late First Eyes Runt. She is delighted and bounces forward. He goes down and growls. He is not ready yet. We need to move. I take Pointy to collect the cache-pouches from our den-spot. They are lighter, even after we returned for Late First Eyes Runt’s treasure. We have used and lost items recently. I also did an inventory and distributed the items with care according to who will carry it and what needs to be most easily accessed. I sling them over the dogs who carry them. Spotless can walk but not fast. The safest option would be to go back out of the forest the way we came and back to the big-saltwater. We head towards the neat spotted plain where Spotless was injured to head back to the coast by the easiest ground to navigate.

It feels like we have been trudging for a degree^ (but knowing this twisted world is probably somehow 4 degrees and now it is past zenith), we are getting to the edge of the human patched-plain.

Both Pointy (at the front) and Late First Eyes Runt (just ahead of me in First Eyes), have been hyper-alert and cautious of unexpected sounds or smells. They stop at the treeline. I go through to investigate. I hear that weird humming again. I smell that human but unfamiliar smell. I hear thunking and thuds muffled by the leaves. I sidle forward. There are some kind of human-made animals. They aren’t like the ever-pups – living individuals that humans extensively made-runts for their own purposes (all the while making the victims of these abuses love them). They do not smell of life. Like the Wilderness-caches, they are fabricated. They float in pairs. They have a pack of trundling terrestrial made-beasts with huge mouths that spit small, white rocks over the plain. Then the floaters go to where the stone lands. Where the floaters go, the trundle-mouths follow. None show any sign of noticing us. Despite that, I will not risk going this way. The huge cat, though a terrifying horror unique to Damp-World, is fundamentally a non-sentient predator. I know what to do with that. These artificial creatures frighten me on a visceral level.

After who knows how many degrees, we break the treeline again. Spotless has been determined in his walking, but he is not fast. The giant cat will certainly be gone from the kill by now. She’ll be off patrolling. Where she has already killed might be the safest place right now. Maybe there will be something left for us. That will help. The rich smell of provision flesh, iron-saturated, life-giving muscles reaches my nose. The whole pack has it. We run, even Spotless, hopping and levering himself with his splint. I do not let any dog eat until Spotless has approached and found something he can manage with his tiny jaw. He is ripping at the dense neck-muscle. I know All-Spot was already gnawing on a hoof, but I didn’t have the will-power to stop him. We gorge. I then rip off as many strips as I can and fill mine and Pointy’s cache-pouches, transferring heavy things from ours into All-Spot’s. He cannot be trusted carrying provision. The cat ate the heart, eyes, tongue and some prime haunch but the rest is mostly available, crows having only taken some viscera and strips of skin. I am no QD. As you have already established! I try to get as much of the useable flesh off the bones and some scraps of hide from the back of the animal.

It is probably after zenith now. The mist has gone but it is still mostly grey. Much replenished in energy, we walk towards the human settlement. I smell less life in general this way. That would be bad for us if we didn’t have a cache of enough flesh for a few days but since we have, can only be a good thing. Big predators don’t go where there is no provision. We start by heading through a series of spaces akin to the human little-wilds. They are bigger and dens associated with them are not as big. They are much more wild than humans seem to want. They are linked by dark, hard paths. There are old, organic smells here. We progress and find dens with huge solid-air panels smeared with dirt and covered in plants. There are more confusing small dens and perches and walls that I cannot decode before we pass out of this space and into what I recognise as a human settlement.

As our small pack heads into the forbidding human settlement, I realise this is not like any human settlement I have experienced so far. The ever-pups seem excited to find this place. It is not like the settlement Inside I investigated with Late First Eyes Runt, which was full of somewhat fresh human smells and artefacts. Nor is it like the last settlement which we passed an eighth-season^ or so ago, which had been stripped bare like a provision carcass for too much Pack. This has no smells of individual humans; none have lived here for a lifetime. But it is the most striking monument to the human need to interfere that I have ever encountered.

Before we found the last settlement, I thought I had some insight into humans. The last settlement was larger than any human settlement I had been in by the order of 120! It had very few functional or sealed dens. No need to open portal covers. No Wilderness-caches. Very few artefacts that I recognised. Barely any smells that could give me any information. We stayed there a few days to investigate but there was nothing that could give insight into humans or even could be of use to the pack. We moved on. The others would be happy to set up a den anywhere, but, knowing Pack is not without the means to leave the compound, I want to be as far as I can be from where I was ejected.

That settlement took us nearly a day to clear completely. I almost went back to the compound to somehow try to leave a message for the dogs inside. I had grossly underestimated humans and I was, by far, the most impressed by them. Pack should know that they cannot take humans on this world, even if Pack can on other worlds. My bringing the message, even if I found a way to get it through, would mean that it would be dismissed by any-dog who saw or smelled me.

We follow the hard paths to Rise. The dens around us are mostly intact. As we progress, they are almost completely intact but without any scent of human. As we plod along, the sun gets lower. The Set hunting-degree has begun. I should look for somewhere to den, but I want to just get a bit further before we stop. The path becomes a series of neatly arranged stones instead of the seemingly controlled volcanic flow of most human paths. At this point, there start to be vines full of tiny suns like humans keep in their cold-caches. Then there are tiny suns everywhere. On World they would be fireflies moving freely. These are static, like buds on vines that somehow release light, but they do not smell of life.

There are more and more of these suns on every den, structure and tree. Different patterns and different colours. Some flash in a pattern but I can’t guess why. I catch scent of human-made beasts and hear the distinctive hum of floaters. I push us back into a darker nook between structures. A floater travels by. When I am sure it is gone, we head back onto the main path and head further into the mystical settlement. I cannot interpret any meaning, but the ever-pups begin to dash forward and put their paws up on solid-air panels and portal covers. They know this kind of environment. If I am freaked out here, then the giant cat will not follow us. We just need to hide from the floaters.

We make progress through the strangely illuminated settlement, dodging floaters as we need to. The floaters in the settlement, like those leading their strange packs, seem to mostly float at under a stretch-height from the ground. It seems foolish when there are predators here bigger than me and I could swat it from the sky. It is now fully dark but for the human light-vines. We will need to stop soon; Spotless is exhausted and getting left behind. The floaters travel about and stop and hover by various solid-air panels or by large structures made of stone that are as old as the tall-den in the woods. I round a corner and am confronted by the silhouette of a tall creature against the sky.

I jump. My starting makes Late First Eyes Runt yip once. In heartbeats the whole pack is barking in alarm. To my surprise, the creature despite having appeared to be in motion, does not move or make any noise. However, a floater approaches. I hide behind the nearest wall, which is low with a row of uniform black metal stems perched atop. I peer between the stems past the unmoving being. The floater approaches and flies down to the level of the ever-pups. Pointy starts trying to pluck it out of the air, whereupon they zoom out of reach. They hover for a while then start to make vocalisations somehow.

The ever-pups instantly still. Another high clicking vocalisation. They all sit, even Spotless with his leg sticking out and Late First Eyes Runt having observed the pack-convention. A longer, lower call. The floater backed off and then made a short high call. Pointy and Bouncy headed forward cautiously. After a pause, it made another call sounding like a Wah and a Ki. Now, all the ever-pups trot to the floater and return to seated position. Late First Eyes Runt follows their pack movements, frequently checking she is getting it right. The floater then hovers in one place and starts burbling a constant stream of repetitive sounds. It approaches Pointy who snaps at it and it hovers a little higher, but still relatively low to the ground. I keep the still-creature between me and the pack and the floater then climb up the far side. When I touch it I realise it is made of metal ingeniously fashioned into the shape of some being. I realise this is a human shape. This is what they are like, this would fit through their portals. This being made all this monument around us. They seem both unassuming for such a beast and somehow threatening in their form. I am sending waves of calm to the pack who can smell my movements even if they can’t see them. Bouncy and Late First Eyes Runt go into hunting stances. The floater approaches Late First Eyes Runt and I drop neatly onto it.

I don’t take time to investigate but it is still as soon as it hits the lumpy stones and the humming ceases. I hoo call and turn to a darkened path between structures. Bouncy and Late First Eyes Runt hoo straight away and trot to join me. By the time we reach the safety of full darkness and I need to hoo again, All-Spot and Spotless are waddling and staggering respectively. Pointy remains. I hoo again. She does not move. I try to mimic the call the floater made,

“WaaaaaaaaaaKiiiiiiiiii” her ears flick, she turns to us and, as though we had just popped into existence, she trots to us. We need to get out of here fast. I have no idea what the floater was doing, but anything that investigates, is in no way threatened by their investigations and obviously acts as a scout is likely to alert more. I have no idea where to go or what to do. You could go back and not come into the clearly dangerous human settlement. I have no idea what sensory perception floaters have to follow but a lot of human things suggest a reliance on eyes and lack of awareness of nose. Dark is our friend.

I don’t retrace our path, minimising the trail, just in case floaters do have scent perception. I take a narrow side path that is barely lit. Once we reach the dark, I start to weave my way (as far as I can tell) in the opposite direction to the huge edifice in the forest and where we started. If we can get clear of this settlement by Rise, then we stand a chance of not being found; they won’t know where to search.

The night has been spent trying to remain undetected by floaters. We were soon away from the stone paths and the light-vines. From then, I took point and we kept moving. Spotless’s speed is not as troubling as it could be, since we are moving in fits and starts when we are definitely not being observed. It is slow progress. We are still inside the settlement but a long way from the lit area when I think it is safe for us to find somewhere to sleep the short day away and start out tomorrow at Set-hunting degree. I find a den that seems small and insignificant in a row with a littersworth^ of others just like it. There is a portal cover that looks like one I can open. It yields immediately and we all stumble inside.

I don’t even notice the creepiness of the echoey chambers, bare unlike most human structures I have found. No warm hides or soft platforms. I push the portal cover closed, shutting the floaters and the horrors of the night Outside. For a few degrees, we are safe. I find a chamber with a portal cover to what was once a tame little-wild (now a little-but-very-wild) and we find a snug corner to den down in. I let them groom while I pull out some willow bark for Spotless and chew to activate it. The first few days after I found it, I chewed what I thought seemed like the right dose, but he spent degrees lying on his side breathing heavily with wide eyes. I have developed some QD skills at least. I put the cache-pouches with provision in, into another chamber behind a portal cover I am pretty sure none of them can open, except Late First Eyes Runt who I hope won’t steal this time. I pull out one of the large pieces of hide, it is not big, but it will cushion Spotless’s leg from the hard, artificial ground. There is a gap where a Wilderness-cache would be. I put the hide in there and nudge Spotless over to it. He doesn’t need much persuading to lie in the softish, snugish den.

Late First Eyes Runt lies down in front of the nook, stating her intent to guard him. He whimpers and cowers. She looks at me, stricken,

( Small pack help. ) I don’t know how to explain it. I squeeze between them, nudging her away from the nook. The others fall in around her and we form a tired, cold pile. I won’t deep-sleep, we need as much warning as possible if floaters are seeking us.